


Canned Blueberries

by Folle



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 15:05:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14475276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Folle/pseuds/Folle
Summary: When John Doe loses control, Joker is the one who comes out. And sometimes, John loses control so quickly that there's nothing he can do to stop what happens afterwards.





	Canned Blueberries

**Author's Note:**

> who's ready for pain?

He was getting better. That's what Dr. Leland told him yesterday. That's what the orderlies told him everyday when he walked past a fight without joining in or egging people on. 

_That's what his Brucie told him moments before his fist collided with that perfect face with a sickening crunch._

This... Hidden anger, _not his, not John Doe's, something darker-_ bubbled over at the most inopportune moment. There was nothing to set it off, in fact, everything Bruce said should have wiped away any bad feeling. Alfred was in Malta, happy and eating pastries, crime was at an all time low, _Bruce was here and was so proud of John and so happy to see him again, even though it had only been a week_

Something twisted and nasty shoved its way forward in John, and his fist collided with Bruce's face. Over and over and over _and over and over-_ The orderlies didn't even bother to come in and check on the noise, not when he broke Bruce's nose, not when Bruce weakly gurgled out _"Please John-"_ , and certainly not when John skittered across the floor and cackled maniacally while the blood dried on his knuckles. 

But his laughing died off when he realized that Bruce wasn't moving. Not even the twitch of his fingers, nor the rise and fall of his chest. This... It had to be a joke, right? Bruce was just pulling his chain here, getting payback for something  _I didn't even do_. 

"B-Brucie, it's John, I- I'm back, that other guy is gone," he crawled over, and carefully placed his hands on his cheeks. The smell of carnage never bothered John before, in fact, he reveled in the stench of guts and blood. But the smell of Bruce's blood _oh God it's all over my hands_ made him retch. "Buddy, this isn't- you know this is a really bad joke, right? You can wake up now."

Bruce didn't respond, not verbally. His face slowly drained of any color, looking more like John's skin than his own. The only color left were the mottled bruises and thick layer of blood, and itty bitty pieces of cartilage and bone sticking out-

"You promised me!" John yelled, barely able to form any words though the painful convulsions in his throat. Was this crying? His nose and eyes burned, and his throat hurt so much trying to stop any whimpers from slipping past. "You said you'd never leave me, you'd never abandon me! What kind of crappy friend are you?!"

 _"You said you would never hurt me, John."_

His eyes snapped down to Bruce's face. His lips hadn't moved. John sniffled, trying to gain enough composure to say anything. "Brucie buddy? Are you- Are you okay?!"

 _"I'm dead, you sick fuck,"_ It certainly was Bruce's voice, but it sounded all wrong, and the body in his arms hadn't even twitched a single muscle. _"Look at me, you did this. You took what we had and twisted into something ugly and wrong. I thought I loved you, but how can I now when you killed me? You betrayed  Harley, and now you killed me. You're incapable of love, you monster."_

"That's not true!" cried John, pulling Bruce's face closer. His skin was so, so cold now, and his face didn't even look like Bruce anymore, like red tissue paper being ripped from a gift bag _was that actually me-_ "I've always loved you! Since the beginning, ever since I met you in Arkham I've loved you so much my heart felt like it was going to be ripped out of my chest!"

_"I'm dead you moron, that doesn't mean much to me now. Even if I was alive it wouldn't have mattered. You're going to be stuck here for the rest of your life with the knowledge that you killed the only person who was capable of loving you in the way you needed. You've spoiled every good thing you've touched John, now live with it. See you in Hell."_

And just like that, no matter how much John pleaded and cried, Bruce was gone. He didn't speak any more, and John slowly felt himself slip away. Who was John Doe? A myth that no longer existed. He died alongside Bruce. 

_"All that was left was Joker."_

John slammed his head down against something when he jerked awake, something hard and really bright and-

John bolted upright, eyes wide and scanning around the room he was in, tears streaming down his cheeks. It wasn't his cell in Arkham, too bright and high tech for that- The Batcave! John frantically tore out if the chair he was in and searched for any sign of Bruce, any at all. But all he found was the rancid stench of Bruce's blood from _somewhere_ in the room. 

"Oh god, pleade, no. No!" When he looked down his hands were covered in red. It was only supposed to be a dream, some sick, messed up nightmare, he wouldn't have... couldn't... He spoiled the one last good thing he allowed himself to enjoy on life. John collapsed on the spot, in front of a class case containing a jangarang, and tucked his long limbs to his chest as he curled in on himself.

"Sorry for the long wait, we ate all of your muffins so I made some box mix-"

"Bruce!" John scrambled to get up, and sprinted at the Bruce who had just stepped off the elevator, and tackled him to the wall. The tray that had been in Bruce's hands was knocked out, and the contents were scared on the floor. "Bruce, you're alive!" John had wrapped his arms around Bruce and squeezed his arms to his side.

Bruce let out a lighthearted chuckle, and gently bopped his head against John's. "Haha, very funny. I wasn't gone for that long John, calm down." He waited for John to release him, but even after a few minutes, he never did. "John? Is everything alright?" Bruce leaned back to get a good look at John's face, and it was then he saw how pink and puffy John's eyes were, and the tear tracks that ran down his face. "Oh my God, John, are you alright?"

John refused to lessen the slack around Bruce, and in fact, squeezed him all the tighter. "I- I had a dream, and when I woke up and you were here- And my hands! The blood!" John choked on a sob, and burried his face into Bruce's chest. "I thought I- That I-"

Nothing more needed to be said for Bruce to catch wind of what he meant. "Oh John..." He sighed and rested his head on his, nuzzling into his soft, berry smelling hair. The nightmares were only getting worse... The Dr. Crane that Dr. Leland had recommended wasn't helping much in reducing John's nightmares (and night terrors), so a trip to Arkham was in order for them, but later... "That was just a bad nightmare John. I'm here, I'm alive and okay. Everything is fine," he cooed, trying to get his arms around his waist. 

"No, it's not! It felt so vivid, and- and so _real_. Bruce, I don't want to lose control over myself, and do something like that to you, ever!" John's arms loosened up enough for Bruce to crush the lithe man to his chest, and cradle the back of his head. 

"Hey, hey, John. Look at me." He waited until those big, vibrant green eyes peered up at him before stroking John's hair and continuing. "Who am I?"

"... Bruce Wayne?"

"And?"

"And Batman!"

Bruce smiled at the sudden, brief bought of enthusiasm. "Right, and I've trained my whole life to stop criminals. I can handle you, if that ever happens. But it won't, and you want to know why?"

"Why's that, Br-Brucie?"

"Because I trust you more than anyone in the world. There isn't anyone else I'd rather have at my six. Because I c-" Bruce pauses for a moment. Could he really keep going on like this? Was keeping John at proverbial arms length something he could even handle anymore? The man ate dinner with him, slept in the same bed more often than not (under the guise of sleepovers), and had tended to his most delicate and tender wounds with gentle, still hands, or a well placed hug. He couldn't keep hiding under the cover of friendship any longer. "I love you."

John gasped loudly, and pulled his head away from Bruce's chest. "Do you- Do you actually mean that? Like, more than friends?"

"Yeah, like more than friends John. Always more than friends, from the very beginning." His head was swimming with fuzz from the soft way John smiled at him. He'd never seen that look on his face before, not even when John was head over heels for Harley. 

John's hands shook as he placed his hands on Bruce's neck, in a way far more intimate and gentle than either of them had ever done. "Brucie, I was so worried after I woke up, about what I had done, and what was going to happen, but I think this was the best case scenario that could have ever happened."

Without thinking, Bruce leaned down and pressed his lips to John's. Too brief, to chaste, but it was so perfect that when they parted, Bruce had felt more at peace than he had in years. "Now come on John," he murmured. "Lets go get those other muffins before they get cold. 

The elevator moved up, and in the brief, last gap of the Batcave, John saw a glimpse if red blooming from a man in a suit. His chest seized up, but found it relaxed, and all his worries melted away as Bruce placed a kiss to his neck. 


End file.
